


Don't Leave Me

by Barricadesandliberties (kgril2987664)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2492195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kgril2987664/pseuds/Barricadesandliberties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras wasn’t sure what to think when he saw Bahorel carry Grantaire’s limp body into the makeshift infirmary. He hadn’t known Grantaire had been in the fray. Enjolras had suspected Grantaire to be passed out somewhere in the safety of the Musain. He certainly didn’t expect to see the cynic lain down on a cot as Combeferre stitched up his worse wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Leave Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grantairely](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=grantairely).



Enjolras wasn’t sure what to think when he saw Bahorel carry Grantaire’s limp body into the makeshift infirmary. He hadn’t known Grantaire had been in the fray. Enjolras had suspected Grantaire to be passed out somewhere in the safety of the Musain. He certainly didn’t expect to see the cynic lain down on a cot as Combeferre stitched up his worse wounds. Enjolras felt two types of pain, physical pain from his wounds, and the emotional pain of seeing Grantaire look so lifeless and covered in blood.

“Enjolras, hold still.” Combeferre said through clenched teeth as he stitched up a particularly deep wound in Enjolras arm.

Enjolras didn’t fully comprehend what his friend was saying. He was still in shock.his mind was racing in other directions. _Was Grantaire alright? Was he dead?_ Enjolras’ vision started to blur as his mind flurried with thoughts. _What was happening? Why was everything blurring?_

“Enjolras, no.” Combeferre’s voice was faint in the storm of thoughts. “Enjolras, no. Don’t leave me. Talk to me. Enjolras don’t do this now! Not now. Enjolras!”

It wasn’t much use. The yells, cries and screams were drowned out by one thought in Enjolras’ mind. _Grantaire_. With that though blackness enveloped Enjolras in it’s numbing embrace.

 

Enjolras’ head hurt. Everything was too loud, too loud and too frantic. His head hurt too, and his arm. Everything burned.

Courfeyrac was hovering over Enjolras when he came to. Courfeyrac appeared as his normal, cheerful self, despite a bloody bandage covering his forehead. His smile was as cheerful and reassuring as ever.

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty. Welcome back to the world of the living.”

Enjolras coughed out a laugh, propping himself into a sitting position with his uninjured arm on his cot.

“How many?” Enjolras said as the realization of what happened finally hit him.

“How many what?”

“How many died?”

“Enjolras please,” Courfeyrac shook his head. “You’re in shock, you don’t need death tolls on your mind. Now look Ferre’s told me we can get ourselves a drink to numb the pain? How about that?”

“How many?”

“Feuilly’s high on the amount of alcohol Ferre gave him to numb the pain. It’s rather funny actually, he can’t compose a full sentence without cracking up--”

“Courfeyrac. How many?”

“Three.” Joly stood behind Enjolras. He put his hand on the leader’s shoulder. “We lost three.” Tears were brimming in Joly’s eyes. “‘Chetta.”

“Joly. I’m here. Don’t worry.”Bossuet came up, putting his arms around Joly’s small, thin frame. The larger man had tears running down his own cheeks. “She’s better off, Joly.”

Enjolras could see the grief, and the pain, clearly in his friends’ faces. Joly and Bossuet had lost Musichetta.

“Who else? Who are the other two?”

“Gavroche.” Courfeyrac managed to sob out. “He...they...they...they got him. They...they...they tor out his lungs. They...He was just a kid.”

“There there Courfeyrac. He’s better off now, he’s safe.”

Combeferre brought Courfeyrac into an embrace, giving the other man a shoulder to cry on. He looked at Enjolras.

“We lost Musichetta, Gavroche and Jehan. That’s who we lost Enjolras.”

Combeferre said the names with a professional detatchment.

“Enjolras, Grantaire’s been asking about you for the past hour. Do you want me to carry you over there?”

It was Bahorel this time.

“No, I think I’m fine.”

“No.” Combeferre interrupted. “You are not getting on that leg. Go ahead Bahorel, just be careful.”

Grumpily Enjolras allowed Bahorel to pick him up.

“How’s Feuilly faring.”

“The blundering idiot’s completely drunk. It quite funny actually.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Here we are. I got him for You Grantaire.”

Grantaire looked at his worse. His skin was deathly pale, contrasting with his messy coal black hair. His eyes were sunken in. Grantaire looked like death itself.

“Well look who’s come. The lovely Apollo in all his grace and loveliness.”

“Yeah, I’ll leave you two alone. I’ve got a ticked off butthead to take care of.”

Bahorel put Enjolras down next to Grantaire.

“So Apollo, did you miss me?”

Enjolras glared at Grantiare, furious.

“You idiot! You gave me a heart attack. You couldn’t give me a little warning could you?”

“Well it’s not like I wanted to almost die.”

“Well you could have told me you were going out.”

“You thought I wouldn’t.”

“Well have you seen you? You’re always out drunk.” Enjolras had stirred himself up into a fury. He almost didn’t notice the point that he was on top of Grantaire, pressing a kiss into the cynics cheek. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Well, that was different.”

“You absolute imbecile. You don’t get it do you.”

“Get what, my dear Apollo?”

Another kiss planted on Grantaire’s cheek.

“I never want to lose you.”  
“Well no promises Apollo. Not with this apocalypse going on.”

Enjolras put his good arm around Grantaire’s chest.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“I won’t Apollo. I promise I never will.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for grantairely on tumblr. Enjoy.


End file.
